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  Marked

  Skylar West

  Published by Blushing Books

  An Imprint of

  ABCD Graphics and Design, Inc.

  A Virginia Corporation

  977 Seminole Trail #233

  Charlottesville, VA 22901

  ©2019

  All rights reserved.

  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The trademark Blushing Books is pending in the US Patent and Trademark Office.

  Skylar West

  Marked

  EBook ISBN: 978-1-64563-061-6

  v1

  Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design

  This book contains fantasy themes appropriate for mature readers only. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual sexual activity.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

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  Prologue

  Theresa

  As I pull up in front of the Falcone mansion, my stomach churns. I'm sure attending the wake is a mistake. My instincts tell me to peel away from the extensive driveway and head for the safety of home. But the questions that have been plaguing me since I read of Maria Falcone's death need assuaging, the foremost playing like a litany of bad music. What if he's moved on without me and all that's left to share is a past?

  I tell myself to get a grip as my feelings are secondary to my purpose in being at the Falcone mansion. That's a half-truth; I'm there for him. I know I am. I put my car in park, joining the others littering the circular driveway. As I walk up the stone steps, I sigh in surrender. Maria Falcone, the only mother I've ever known, has died. I'm here to pay my respects, to say goodbye. Maybe I wouldn't see Jimmy; maybe I'm getting myself worked up for nothing.

  My stomach roils at the idea of seeing him as a man, seeing what he's become. I fear what I want most and find myself wavering between my desire to see him and hoping to make a clean exit without seeing him. I wonder, if I didn't see him, if I could push Jimmy Falcone into the recesses of my childhood and pull him out as a fond memory when I needed one.

  But even as that thought crests, I know it's a lie. The ache I feel for Jimmy is not something that will ever go away; it's as permanent as his handprint was all those years ago. Standing on the threshold of the entrance, I tug my black mini skirt and flick my hair into place. I reach out my trembling hand for the door handle, and taking a deep breath, I pull it open and step inside.

  The great hall of the mansion is filled to capacity for Maria's wake. My social anxiety rears its head at the size of the crowd. Upon further inspection, I notice the room is predominantly filled with family, and this does not help the urge to flee. Until something else hits me that is just as powerful—the sense that I am being watched.

  I stand still, my eyes roving around the room, and then I see him. The shock to my body is beyond anything I could have fabricated based on my memories. My breath catches, and my legs begin to tremble. His tall, over six-foot frame is clear now from the other side of the room. He stares at me so intently that I wonder if I'm naked—I certainly feel as though I am.

  In a room of Italians with an average height of five foot five inches, Jimmy looks like a runway model. He's gorgeous. His eyes hold a predatory gleam. I watch him excuse himself without ever taking his eyes off me.

  He stalks toward me, every inch of his form and energy screaming dominant. I realize now that my desires are way beyond my comfort zone. Unconsciously, I start to back away, until my butt bangs into the door behind me. Oh, my God, my lady parts clench as he makes his way over to me. Then he's here and stops directly in front of me. I'm holding my breath.

  "Theresa." He looks me up and down. "Look at you, all grown up."

  "Um, hi, Jimmy."

  He grabs my arm without another word and stalks away from the crowd, bringing me into what I assume is his office, tucked out of the way and very private. He points at a comfortable wing back while he takes the office chair behind his desk, clearly making a power play.

  I giggle nervously and say, "This reminds me of the principal's office at school. I'm not in trouble already, am I?"

  His eyes glitter dangerously. "Do you want to be in trouble, Theresa?"

  Damn, the way he draws out my name when he says it has my body sizzling with lust. I can feel my chest heaving as I seek the oxygen that just got sucked out of my body when he made my lady parts clench. Thank God I'm sitting as I couldn't imagine my legs effectively holding me up. Needing to ground myself, I shift my gaze from him to the window behind his head. A young girl of maybe twelve who looks an awful lot like Jimmy is standing outside. My stomach flip-flops. He has a daughter; I should leave.

  "Is that your daughter?"

  Jimmy turns his head, his expression quickly shifting from predator to displeasure. "Stay here," he orders. I want to flip him off, but something makes me acquiescent. A moment later, I see Jimmy with his daughter. He whispers something in her ear, and she adamantly shakes her head in response. He gives her jean clad bottom a smack and then quickly pulls her in for a hug.

  She buries her face in his chest as he wraps his strong arms around her. I can see his lips still moving, but I have no idea what he's saying. When she pulls away, she's wearing a huge smile. I guess whatever he said to her must have been encouraging. She skips away, both disappearing from my sight line.

  The domestic scene I just witnessed trigged a memory—Jimmy and I were hanging out in the treehouse he and his father built for us when we were kids. The memory was based off a habitual scene we played out together hundreds of times, 'house.'

  My mind travels back to the treehouse, the last time we were in it, just before the Falcone family moved. Jimmy suddenly says, "Wife! Where are my slippers and pipe?"

  He'd just shared with me that his family was moving. I was really upset, and he was trying to take my mind off it by playing our old game. But instead of making me laugh, as intended, I got pissed off and answered, "Go fuck yourself, Jimmy, I want a divorce." I don't know who had been more shocked, me or him. Then I started laughing, hard, like a crazy person.

  Jimmy hadn't thought it funny. He sat down on the only chair in the clubhouse and pulled me over his lap. He pushed my head toward the plank floor so my ass was right in his face. I'd felt so humiliated but, also, a little excited. To hide the fact, I had started kicking, and he started spanking.

  "What the hell, Jimmy? It was a joke, now let me go." When my words didn't dissuade him, I tried again, "I swear to God, Jimmy, when I get up, I'm going to—"

  "What, Theresa, what are you going to do, hit me with your little girly fists? Don't you ever say the divorce word to me, Theresa Romano, because it won't happen. You're mine." He punctuated each word with a hard smack to my ass.

  "Jimmy, it's a game; we're just goofing off." His answer was to continue to rain blows down on my unprotected ass. "Stop, please let me up."

  "No."

  Now I was mad, the increasing sting in my backside making me angrier with each crack. "You bastard," I hissed, renewing my efforts. "Let me up this instant."

  "Oh, ho, ho! You t
hink it's okay to swear at me, little girl? You're staying over my lap until you beg."

  I am so engrossed in the memory, I startle when Jimmy perches himself against the edge of the desk, mere inches away from where I'm sitting, his presence bringing me abruptly back to the present. My gaze travels up his chiseled body and rests on his chest. I feel his eyes bearing down on me, too intense for me to investigate, especially after what I'd been remembering about us.

  Embarrassment creates a heat that blooms on my chest and quickly spreads to my face. Gathering my courage, I allow my gaze to travel up to Jimmy's face. His expression reflects sardonic amusement.

  "Blush is such a becoming colour on you, Theresa," he says, the meaning of his words clear as his predatory gaze turns into a leer. My blush deepens.

  "I bet I can guess what you're remembering right now." He leans forward and reaches out his hand to cup my chin. I try not to moan at the contact. Jimmy's hand is sending bolts of lightning through me as he runs his fingers gently over my jaw.

  "Why are you here, Theresa, why did you come?" he husks, his eyes holding me captive. Every nerve in my body is taut, my lady parts on fire. "B-because," I stutter. "Because I want to pay my respects to your mother; you know she meant a lot to me." My voice hikes a bit at the end, my purpose for being here lending strength to my words. At least enough to break the temporary control that Jimmy is easily exuding over me.

  "Why did you bring me in here?" I countered, coming back in control of my faculties. He sighs and drops his hand from my chin.

  "Let's go see the family." He wraps my arm around his arm, and we leave his office.

  I'm unaware of exactly what business practices the family is invested in to have amassed, what clearly must be, a large fortune. Looking around, I can see my and Jimmy's childhood homes fitting inside this monstrosity at least five times. I chance to peek at him from beneath my lashes. The man is at home with his wealth, belonging to this large lifestyle he created for himself.

  Jimmy's daughter walks down the spiral staircase toward us, now dressed in a black satin dress with ballet flats. Her long tresses are pulled back in a French braid. I glance at Jimmy; he's wearing a smile of approval at her appearance. In response, her face lights up until she glances at me on her father's arm. I watch her expression change to hostility.

  "Daddy?" She stops on the last stair and lifts her chin as she gazes down at me in an attempt to intimidate. How I admire her spunk.

  "Maggie," Jimmy says, drawing her down the last stair and into his other arm. "This is my childhood best friend, Theresa. And this beautiful young woman is my princess, Maggie."

  "The Theresa?" Her eyes are round. "Finally," she squeals, stepping out of her father's arm and into mine. "I have been like wanting to meet you for like ever."

  Maggie's big eyes and cute dimples are so disarming, I can't help falling in love with her on the spot. "Well, I am very happy to meet you too, princess Maggie," I say enthusiastically. She beams at me before pulling away from our awkward one arm embrace.

  A crash from the kitchen startles us. "Excuse me, ladies. I see I'm needed. Mags, please show Theresa around while I'm gone, principessa."

  "Yes, Daddy," she agrees as he kisses her cheek. Then Jimmy disappears through the double doors leading to what I assume is the kitchen.

  "How long have you known my dad?"

  "Mmm, since forever. Jimmy was two when I was born. We lived next door to each other until the family moved here when he was fifteen." We take our time moving about the room. Maggie seems more interested in steering me than in introducing me. I am good with that; just being here stresses me out. I don't need to add to it with unnecessary introductions.

  "Maggie, how did you hear about me? Was it through your dad?"

  She shook her head no. "Nonna—she used to tell me stories about you and my dad. She told me that I reminded her of you. She said you were tough and sweet, and that is why daddy and you were besties."

  I want to ask more, but Maggie brings us to a stop in front of a dense group of men, all of whom seem vaguely familiar. As they part, I see James Senior in the center of the group. He appears startled to see me.

  "Theresa." He pulls me in, planting a kiss on either cheek. "Let me look at you." He moves me back to arm's length. I know my five-foot-five frame shows well as I'm in good shape. I'm a runner, so my legs are shapely and on display in the short skirt I'd chosen.

  I admit, that while I was choosing my outfit, I imagined Jimmy salivating over my legs. I added a matching jacket to the form-fitting mini skirt and black wedge heels to accentuate my ankles. James senior clucks his tongue.

  "You're too skinny, Bella."

  I laugh. "James, you would think a woman weighing in at two hundred pounds was too skinny."

  He chuckles. "Have you seen Jimmy?"

  I nod. "Yes, but I'm not here for him." I'm such a liar. "I'm here to see you and the family and give my condolences. I loved Maria like a mother, you know that. In fact, she was the only mother I ever knew."

  He averts his gaze as he nods in agreement with my words. He is hurting, so I give him a hug and then allow Maggie to move us along. We stop at a group of women, all looking to be around age twenty. It's hard not to grimace as they speak, the theme of their conversation being sexual mishaps. Their stories are too graphic for her, so I move us along.

  "Maggie, is your mother here? If so, I would love to meet her." She shakes her head. "She died just before I turned one. I don't remember her."

  I feel like a schmuck. I should have asked Jimmy, prior to asking her. "I'm so sorry, Maggie," I say as I reach for her hand, holding it between both of mine. "I guess your grandmother was your world?" She nods, her eyes becoming heavy with unshed tears.

  "I lost my mother when I was a baby, too, just like you. And for a long time, your grandmother was like my mother. Jimmy and I, well, we were besties growing up because I was always at the Falcone house. My dad worked hard so we could keep our house, and I have no other family."

  I reach out for her other hand and hold them both in mine. "I am truly sorry, Maggie, for your loss." A large tear that has been hovering finally falls and rolls down her porcelain cheek. I let go of one of her hands and wipe it away and then pull her in for a hug.

  "It will be okay, Maggie," I croon. "Let it all out, darling." And with my words, the dam unleashes. A few minutes later, Jimmy comes around the corner and stops so abruptly that he slides on the Italian marble flooring and lands on his ass, by our feet.

  Maggie, and I gaze down at him simultaneously. The moment of grieving is quickly replaced with laughter, which increases with Jimmy's shocked expression, which then morphs into indignant, then annoyance, and ends with complicity, perhaps?

  "So, you girls think me landing on my ass is funny, do you? We'll see how funny you think it is when I catch you."

  Yay, a game, my inner goddess claps. Maggie and I run screeching away, down a wing, and out into the backyard. Jimmy follows, making monster sounds as he chases us. We giggle in anticipation of being grabbed by the monster. This was just like when we were kids, except now, I am hobbled by my heels. "Help," I screech as Jimmy catches me.

  "Maggie," he growls. "I caught your friend. What should I do, eat her?"

  I pretend mock fear of being eaten.

  Maggie pops her head out from behind a rose bush. "Kiss her, Daddy."

  Jimmy pulls me in tight and kisses me. Not a peck as I had expected, but a deep kiss, his tongue opening my lips, commanding, dominating, drinking deeply. My eyes fly open at the invasion. His are already open, the predatory look in his eyes sealing my future. I try pulling away, wanting, no needing, to escape from him.

  Maggie taps him on the shoulder. "That's quite the kiss, Dad."

  Jimmy looks up, stunned, his lips finally releasing me.

  Maggie and I laugh again at his expense as we saunter away, but not before he swats my ass. It's light, but it sears me with heat. Everything about Jimmy Falcone speaks possession. If I
am not careful, I will be his next acquisition.

  Jimmy leaves us then to go and speak with more guests that have arrived during our romp outside. I say my goodbyes to Maggie and James senior and head for the door, hoping to escape before Jimmy notices I am leaving.

  I scan the extensive u-shaped driveway for my car. The new guests have blocked me in. Crap! So much for a clean escape. I take a breath. Calm down. Theresa, I coax myself. How do I get out of this situation without talking to Jimmy? Being in his presence has set off my lady parts that I've been purposely keeping shut off for a few years now. I haven't dated since college, and I don't want to start now. That last experience with Steve had been humiliating and has put me off men.

  I remember I have a change of clothes in my trunk and running shoes. Oh, hurray! I can do this. I get my items from my trunk and sneak down the side of the house, ducking behind a sculptured bush.

  I pull off my wedges and wiggle out of my skirt and jacket. I am in my camisole and G-string when Jimmy and another guy come around the corner. I don't know who is more surprised, me or them. I hug my clothing to the front of my body in a vain attempt at covering up. Jimmy walks straight to me while taking off his suit coat and covers me up.

  "Give me a moment, Al."

  "Sure, boss." Al continues around to the back yard.

  "Theresa, what the hell are you doing, trying to give the wake an eyeful?"

  I am thoroughly embarrassed. "Um, well, uh, you see, I need to leave, but my car is stuck by the new arrivals, so I grabbed a change of clothes so I could, you know, change, and then jog home. I figured I'd get the car later." I have been staring at the ground during this exchange.